


Alpha and Zeta

by papergardener



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Clone Sex, Clones, Coco Locos Smut Off, Comedy, Consensual Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Future AU, Multi, OT3, Orgy, PWP, Polyamory, Self-cest, this is fifty shades of absurd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 16:09:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17922074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papergardener/pseuds/papergardener
Summary: Héctor has a problem with clones. Sexy clones. Ernesto and Imelda frankly aren’t helping... actually this might not be a problem.





	Alpha and Zeta

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom can use some absurdity and humor. Excited to share this with the world because it is so much fun for me, I hope others enjoy it too.  
> Prompt: Forbidden Sex  
> Edit: I am ashamed to admit I didn't have one of the most obvious movie lines, so went and fixed that up.

The trouble came with a knock at the door and Héctor’s own voice saying, “¡Hola! Anyone in there?”

Imelda and Ernesto stopped their bickering and both slowly turned towards Héctor, slouching down between them on the couch.

No one else was supposed to be there.

Imelda and Héctor were only there to keep their friend (and often more than friend) company over the long holiday weekend while everyone else was gone. Ernesto had even given them a tour of the cloning research lab where he worked, proudly showing off the machines and fancy technology (and constantly telling Héctor to stop touching everything). The entire time they had been there, they had not seen another soul.

A stunned silence. Then Imelda said, “Was that…?”

Ernesto quickly shook his head, eyes wide.

“Definitely not,” Héctor said, also shaking his head.

Two more knocks. “We can hear you, you know.”

That was definitely his voice.

" _What did you do?_ ” Ernesto hissed, standing and moving to the door as the other two followed.

Outside, clustered together in the hallway, were five Héctors, all identical, all grinning sheepishly, and all very naked.

“… Shit.”

“So are you going to let us in?” one said, raising an eyebrow and glancing down.

 _Oh, that’s not helping,_ Héctor thought as he saw the magazine he held between his legs (Scientific Minds, Special Issue: SEX).

Then his eyes drifted to another clone, holding only a bulbous glass beaker over his dangly bits.  _Oh, that is really not helping!_

Without a word Ernesto stood aside and they came in, gazing about the studio apartment decked out in true Ernesto fashion: overdone to hell. The clones stood clustered near the couch, most trying to cover themselves, but mainly just very naked, all wiry muscle and knobby bits.

 _I am not that skinny_ , Héctor thought.

“ _Carajo_ , I forgot how skinny you are,” Ernesto said, staring openly.

“Stop that!” Héctor said, shoving him. Thinking fast, he grabbed his purple hoodie from a chair and threw it at the nearest clone. “We need pants! Or, or something. Ernesto, I need your closet!”

“Like hell you’re going to give them my good clothes. Hey, put that down!” Ernesto shouted as one clone lifted up a guitar off the wall, while another shuffled nearer the kitchen.

“All right, everyone, listen up!” Imelda said in a voice make everyone look to her. She gestured to the clones. “You! Stay right there and don’t touch anything. You two, over here.”

Héctor (the real Héctor) huddled together with Imelda and Ernesto, glancing over to make sure the clones stayed on the couch, all looking rather awkward and trying not to touch each other.

“What in God’s name have you done, Héctor?” Ernesto hissed. “You must have touched something—“

“How do you know it was me?”

“Of course it was you! I can’t believe you accidentally made five human clones. _How_?”

“Maybe… it was… magic?” Héctor said, grimacing.

“It wasn’t magic! It was science and your own idiocy!”

“Well how would I know? You work at a cloning factory, why are  _you_ so surprised?!”

“Because this doesn’t happen!” Ernesto said furiously, grabbing Héctor’s collar. “I can lose my job over this! Hell, I could go to prison—“

Imelda slapped his hand off with a sharp glare. “All right! Panicking isn’t going to help. So then, Mr. Knowledgeable, what are we—“

All three were then quite distracted by a long, sensual moan from the couch. Slowly, as one, they turned and stared.

“What the fuck?”

One of the clones was now on his knees between the spread legs of another and sucking him off like a starving man, his entire body moving back and forth as he took him deep into his throat. The one on top had his hand twisted in his hair and rolled his head back with another lazy moan.

 _I do not sound like that_ , thought Héctor, a little offended.

“Wow, they even sound like you,” Imelda murmured.

Okay, definitely offended.

“Oy, focus!” Imelda and Ernesto were still staring wide-eyed. Héctor snapped his finger before them. “Hey, eyes here!”

“Right, right, sorry,” Imelda said, blushing. “So uh… what can we do to fix this?”

“We have to kill them,” Ernesto said grimly.

“ _What?”_ Héctor shouted, jerking away.

Imelda and Ernesto both grabbed him and yanked him back into the huddle.

“Don’t’ worry,” Imelda said, before glaring at Ernesto. “And we’re not killing them, you weirdo!”

“ _There’s no other_ … oh wait,” Ernesto muttered, looking aside. “Okay, there might be another way.”

“Let’s go with that!”

“Why was murder your first thought?” Imelda asked, side-eyeing him.

“Wait right here, I have to go check something.”

He quickly left, and in the three minutes it took him to run there and back, the scene had changed again.

“Good news, everyone!” Ernesto shouted after slamming the door open, grinning wide. “We don’t have to… what the hell?”

“ _Fuck_ … keep doing that,” a too-familiar voice said from the couch, where there was now a clone standing on the couch and fucking the mouth of the one still getting sucked off like it was his life’s mission. At his side, another was getting a lazy hand job, their legs tangled together.

“It’s like a bad porno,” Imelda said numbly as Ernesto came over, still staring. “Or maybe a very good one. I’m not sure.”

“Are clones usually this horny?” Héctor asked, more bemused than anything else.

“Of course not!” Ernesto snapped, and then looked more closely at Héctor. “Wait... you were thinking of something dirty in the lab, weren’t you?”

Héctor pursed his lips, thinking back to Imelda peering into a microscope, and how it would be fun to bend her over that pristine white counter and make her moan.

“No.”

“What were you saying before?” Imelda asked.

“Oh, right. I checked the settings and they’re just temporary clones. They still have Héctor’s memories, but their bodies can’t sustain them.” Ernesto shrugged. “They’ll be gone in the morning.”

“Really? That’s… convenient.” Héctor relaxed, his shoulders lowering. “So, what now? Should we tell them to stop?”

“No,” they said in unison, watching the tangle of warm, bucking flesh. They were really going at it.

“I think this has crossed some kind of boundary,” Héctor said, after a pause. “Like, a moral boundary. Broken some ethics codes or… or the laws of physics. Something.”

“Absolutely,” Ernesto said in a low voice as one of the clones walked over. “And we’re about to break some more.”

“ _What?”_

“Ay, Ernesto!” the approaching Héctor said, gloriously, unabashedly naked, his eagerness jutting up between his legs. “You three done with your little chat? I need some oil.”

“What on earth for?” Héctor yelped, knowing very well what for.

“Yeah, I have some around here.”

“Have you lost your mind? That’s… that’s me!”

“Exactly, sometimes you just have to seize your moment.” His best friend turned with a shrug and a comforting grin. “I’m sure you understand.”

“But…”

But Ernesto had been easily swayed by a naked, virile look-a-like, and Héctor was left gaping.

“Ach!” Héctor threw his arms up in defeat. “Fine, let him have his clone orgy, what do we care? Right, Imelda?… Imelda?”

“I had a dream like this once,” she murmured, biting her lip. “It was a good one, too.”

 _“Eh_?”

“I’m going to just go… talk with them.” Wide-eyed, she drifted away, muttering, “Nothing wrong with talking.” The group of clones welcomed her with warm smiles and open arms, and the real Héctor found himself standing alone, rubbing his wrist, feeling abandoned.

“You going to join us?”

He looked over to see his reflection walking up, his own purple jacket slung over the clone’s shoulders.

“Hey, hey, keep back!” Héctor cried, leaping away and pulling his arms well out of reach. Would something happen if he touched one of his own clones? Would the world explode? Would  _he_ explode?

“Ay, relax amigo,” the clone said, grinning. “Just came to talk.” He stood beside him, arms crossed languidly as they watched the unfolding spectacle.

“So… you really just going to stand here?” the clone asked, raising an eyebrow.

“N-no. I mean yes! I can’t, you know... ethics and all that.”

A pause. “You want to know something?” the clone beside him said casually. “You do want to join.”

“I don’t,” Héctor said, his cheeks very warm.

“You do, but you’re afraid: about what they’ll think, about what you’ll think of yourself. Ashamed to want it. Afraid to be that vulnerable.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You can’t lie to me.” Their eyes met, and there was a fierce, penetrating understanding. “I know you because I  _am you_.”

Héctor leaned away. “Well that’s… frankly terrifying.”

The clone sulked at that, furrowing his brows, and then his face lit up.

“I got it!” he shouted abruptly, grabbing Héctor’s shoulders and ignoring his terrified shout. “Pretend to be one of us!”

Quickly recovering from having not exploded, Héctor took that in and then said, “What? Are you  _loco?_ They’d realize it in an instant.”

“Nah! Listen, just take off these clothes and you’d fit right in. When are you ever going to get another chance?”

Héctor looked over to where Ernesto and Imelda were happily talking… no, talking wasn’t the right word, they were shamelessly making out with his clones. A warmth flared in his center, his body stirring regardless his mind telling him this was probably a bad idea.

“So…?”

“Ay, all right, all right,” Héctor conceded, letting his head drop, before holding up a hand. “But no kissing.” He did not want to kiss himself. That was weird. The whole situation was weird but he had  _limits_.

“Pfft, deal!” He smirked and then knelt before him, tugging at his belt. Héctor peeled off his shirt and then his undershirt, tossing them aside, his body stiffening in the cool air.

Glancing down, he wondered aloud, “So uh… why are helping me?”

The clone shrugged. “You just seemed lonely. And I guess I feel responsible for you, since you’re my Alpha.”

“Your what?”

“Alpha. The original, you know? And then there’s these guys: that’s Beta with Ernesto, Gamma is the chatty one, Delta has Imelda on his lap, while Epsilon is the one raiding the fridge. And I’m Zeta.”

“Ahh… right. Of course.” The clones had  _names?_

Héctor allowed himself to be stripped until both were naked as the day they were born—or hour, as it were, and went towards the couch. They stopped at the sight of Imelda sitting on one clone’s lap, her shirt half-lifted, the pale blue of her bra pushed aside as he fondled her breast, lavishing her skin with his tongue. Another hand had crept beneath the waistband of her pants, making her squirm and moan.

This was getting far out of hand.

“Hey, hey!” The clone—Zeta, he remembered—snapped his fingers in front of his eyes. “You can do this! Don’t overthink it. Now come on.”

Ernesto seemed the safer option. Another clone (Beta?) was already servicing him, giving long, sensual licks to Ernesto’s shaft, now slick with spit. He glanced up at them and did a small double take before grinning. Héctor got the feeling he  _knew_.

“You want a turn?” he asked, even as Ernesto rocked his hips forward with a groan.

“Uhh, sure.” This was… fine. Probably.

He had sucked Ernesto off plenty of times before, and so he knelt down, hesitating before a firm hand gripped his head. He found himself staring at Ernesto’s engorged flesh an inch from his nose.

“Well?” Ernesto said, adding a little encouraging pressure. “Go on.”

 _He really thinks I’m one of them_ , he realized, stunned. There was something intoxicating about that. Licking his lip, he moved that inch forward and took him full in his mouth. He closed his eyes at the familiar salty taste, automatically bobbing his head along the length of him, one hand moving between his sprawled legs to fondle his balls, fingers curling in the dark hair.

“Fuck, that’s better,” Ernesto murmured, shifting to the edge of the couch.

 _This isn’t so strange_ , Héctor thought, rolling his tongue, catching the tang of salt and sex. Then there was another hand cupping his ass that made him start. That wasn’t Imelda’s hand, and Héctor was keenly aware as it roamed over his backside. A calloused finger dipped lower, circling the little knot of muscle.

“Ah, wait, wait!” a familiar voice called out. “Maybe you shouldn’t—“

Héctor popped off Ernesto’s cock, continuing to pump it with his hands, and turned to the anxious clone who must be Zeta. “I don’t mind.”

The clone paused, staring with a ‘ _what the fuck’_ expression. Then he bent down and cupped his hand, hiding his words from Ernesto.

“Seriously?” he whispered, a grin tugging at his lips. “Kissing is off limits but this is fine?”

Héctor shrugged, finding a bizarre sense of safety in the anonymity. “As long as you make it fun and no one ever hears about it. Enjoy it while we can, right?”

The clone paused, considering, and then smirked.

“All right, that tells me all I need to know.” Then the clone  _winked_ at him, and Héctor got an inkling of what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that.

He moved out of sight, and Héctor hid his own smile by sucking once more on Ernesto’s shining red cock. The large hand tangled in his hair tightened; Héctor winced, but didn’t pull back. Rather, he moved his body forward and went even harder. Ernesto had never been quite so rough before; it was rather thrilling.

A new hesitant touch came to his waist, drifting a little lower. “You really sure about this?” Zeta murmured into his ear.

“I’m sure,” Héctor whispered back. “You just better make it good.”

There was a low breath of laughter before Zeta laid his forehead against his shoulder, and there was something so  _human_ about it. The hand drifted lower again, now more determined.

Returning to his earlier task, Héctor meanwhile began to pump his own growing hardness, trying to relax despite everything as he felt an oil-slick finger probe him. There came murmured talk nearby, indistinct. Moments later another naked brown body moved in his peripheral and knelt beside him. There was suddenly a firm pressure on his cock and Héctor nearly choked. Backing off Ernesto, drool dribbling down his chin, he looked down.

“I can take care of this,” the clone there said, his own voice dark and wanting, immediately taking him into his mouth with gusto.

 _Fuck…_ was this really happening?

“Might as well have fun, right?” Zeta whispered mischievously in his ear, even as his finger pressed further in, crooking up and making Héctor gasp and squirm, his hips bucking into the hot, glorious sensation.

Ernesto abruptly stood and Héctor looked up to see a fiery darkness in his eyes. Slowly, methodically, he rolled up his left sleeve, and then his right, looming over him, tall and confident, and Héctor felt something skip in his chest.

“Don’t forget what you should be focusing on,” he said, taking himself in hand and pumping vigorously, as his other hand gripped Héctor’s cheek.

Héctor opened his mouth wide and a moment later he was choking. It was hard and fast and he could only keep his head still as Ernesto began to thrust into his mouth.

“That’s better,” Ernesto grunted, “Because right now…  _you’re mine_.”

Héctor shut his eyes tight and would have moaned if he could. Instead he reached out and grabbed the back of Ernesto’s shirt, twisting his hand as Ernesto continued to pump in and out. He very nearly choked again as a second slick finger slipped inside him, just slowly pressing, an almost alarming contrast to the heavy cock jutting into his mouth. A grunt, and then rough hands were gripping both sides of his head, holding him still as Ernesto thrust deep and frantic, forcing his throat open. Héctor squirmed, gagging and dribbling around the hot skin, his nose pushed into the dark mass of curls, tears pricking in his eyes.

It was too much, he couldn’t...

There came a jerking motion and hot bursts hit the back of his throat, even as Ernesto continued to buck into him, forcing him to swallow, spurt after spurt. Finally, heaving, Ernesto pulled off, leaving Héctor gasping as he let his head drop, spots of light dancing in the corner of his vision. Ernesto staggered backwards onto the couch, looking rather debauched himself and grinning at him. Héctor grinned right back.

A light touch at his shoulder. “My turn, I think?” Zeta said, making Héctor realize that the other clone was gone, and the fingers inside him had disappeared. Warm hands gripped his hips as Zeta entered him in a long, slow push.

Héctor might have sworn at him if it wasn’t so  _fucking good._ As it was, he still swore, bending his head low as he was thrust into, a wonderful burning pressure that made him shudder. It started slow: a little in, a little out, almost lazy until he found a steady pace. That’s when it got good, almost sweet as Héctor knelt with his ass in the air and his forehead pressed against the carpet, his body growing increasingly warm.

“There’s something I want to try,” Zeta murmured into his ear. “Or something you want to try, maybe. Something like that.”

Then questing hands rolled over his shoulders, down, and further down before grasping his wrists and pulling them back, hard enough to force his chest to press out. Zeta pushed himself in until he was flush against his ass, deep within him. Héctor groaned at the new pressure, then swore again as Zeta rocked back before yanking his arms and thrusting deep.

_“Ah!”_

“Heh. Turns out I do know exactly what you like,” Zeta said, and Héctor’s eyes fluttered at that. Fuck. Fuck, that’s wasn’t  _fair_.

He had been going easy before. Now the clone took a firm hold of his arms and fucked him hard, his balls slapping heavily against his thighs. It was fast and dirty, pulling him back again and again as Zeta jerked his hips up, filling him and hitting that spot that made his body leap with horrible accuracy. His own neglected cock bobbed with each surging motion, color an angry, throbbing red, and Héctor felt himself edging closer...

Then the fucker stopped mid-thrust.

“Uhhh…” Zeta said, anxiously. “Should I… stop?”

“Why the _hell_ —“

Zeta gave a loud, distinct cough.

Héctor looked up. Instead of Ernesto, Imelda now stood naked before him, avidly watching her boyfriend get sodomized by his own clone.

Neither man moved, just knelt frozen as if they’d gotten their hands caught in a cookie jar. Or a dick caught in a… Héctor lost track of the analogy as he tried to put his mind to better use, like an explanation. (Did this count as cheating? Masturbation??) Then he took a better look and noticed how she stood, arms crossed beneath her chest, legs pressed tight together, a sure sign she was dripping and trying not to show it.

“I have a better idea,” Imelda said. “Pull him back a little more.”

Zeta obeyed, and there came a new tight pressure on Héctor’s arms, his shoulders quite hurting. But it stopped when a groan tore out of his throat, his chest almost parallel to the floor, his ribs straining.

“Oh, wait, wait! Ay, Delta! Come over here and help me, will ya?”

Héctor winced, afraid that any more strain and his arms would break. Instead, the pressure loosened, the hands holding him falling lax, gently massaging his wrists.

“You good?” Zeta asked softly, and Héctor nodded, stretching his stiff muscles.

From behind, well out of sight, the hands holding him shifted, separating his wrists and now new hands held him, pulling still further back but more comfortably than before, his shoulders no longer aching. His arms were pulled harder, and he grimaced.

“That’s it,” came his own voice at his ear, warm and comforting. “I’ve got you. Just lean back, you’re good.”

It took a moment for his tense, shaking body to relax, and then he let out a breath and let himself fall, little by little, onto a warm, firm chest, tilting backwards. He closed his eyes, breathing deep as he grew accustomed to the new position, and increasingly aware of the hot cock still buried inside him, as well as his own aching need. Zeta wrapped his newly freed arms around him, resting his chin on his shoulder, and from the corner of his eye, Héctor noticed him looking down at his chest, the muscles and ribs straining tight against the skin with every ragged breath.

“Okay, so this is weird,” Zeta said, and Héctor let out a faint laugh.

Zeta experimentally rocked his hips forward, just a slight movement that somehow surged through him, his cock twitching and leaking. Then his whole body jerked at a feather light touch.

“Beautiful,” Imelda said softly, pressing her hand harder against him, her thumb smearing over a white bead of precum. God, he felt so exposed, it was nearly terrifying if it wasn’t so thrilling, if he didn’t feel so  _safe_.

“You wouldn’t mind, right?” she asked, eyes flitting between both of them.

Héctor wasn’t sure what to say. He supposed he nodded, but the question seemed beyond his comprehension at the moment. There was abruptly a wonderful sting as nails raked across his chest.

“He would very much like that,” the voice at his neck purred. And it was his own voice, and it was perfectly true, and it was disorienting that it came from a man who was him and not him. A man who suddenly thrust up, tilting his hips to hit that spot that made him almost scream.

“Just know I’m not done with you yet,” Zeta threatened very quietly, before pressing an open mouth kiss to his throat, grazing his teeth along his skin.

 _That’s cheating_ , Héctor thought, shivering, but sure as hell not complaining. Zeta knew all of his weak spots, and was taking clear advantage of it. The jerk.

Then Imelda’s mouth was on his, her tongue slipping inside, and he opened for her, a low whine coming from his throat as she bit his lower lip, her hands tracing down his chest. “You have no idea how beautiful you look,” she whispered, pulling away.

With no preamble, she took hold of his cock, lined it up, and impaled herself on it in one steady motion, an incredible, burning heat. Instinctively Héctor bucked up into her, and then instinct made him rock back onto the hard cock filling him.

“Fuck!” both Héctors said together, a breathless chorus.

“ _Por Dios_ ,” Zeta murmured, his hips stuttering. “ _Mierda,_ that’s good.”

 _Yes, this feels good_.  _Very good. Sweet Mary and Joseph..._

It was probably sacrilegious to call it like heaven, but it was close. Imelda was so warm, so damn tight around him, and amazingly slick as she moved, rising a little before sinking even deeper until she lay hard against him, grinding down, whimpering. Her hands found his shoulders, bracing hard against him, and he lay pinioned between the two warm bodies. Each began to move, a discordant rhythm apparently designed to ruin him. It was all too much and yet he nearly cried from want of  _more._ God, he was  _so close!_

Mind almost half gone, he watched Imelda plunging onto him, eyes shut in ecstasy, mouth open and gasping. Her beautiful breasts bounced with every downward roll accompanied with wet smacks of skin on skin. Then Zeta’s head pressed hard against his shoulder, his shallow thrusting growing erratic.

“ _Mierda_ … I’m so close,” he gasped, and Héctor could feel him shaking. Zeta’s legs twitched underneath him, creating just enough space to  _finally_ be able to fuck him for real again, and he did so in earnest, a stuttering, animalistic pace, desperate to find that release.

In front of him, Imelda was muttering soft obscenities under her breath, one hand groping her breast as she rocked against him, gripping his shoulder and grinding down in a way that made her thighs tremble. With a sharp cry she suddenly pressed down hard against him, her body squeezing tight, burning white-hot all around.

“Fuck,  _fuck!_ ”

It was all too much, and all he could do was shut his eyes tight and hope his heart wouldn’t burst.

In his growing euphoria he felt Zeta burst within him, hands clutching his hips tight, and there was Imelda pressed hard around his burning cock, and it pushed him over and up, rocketing into a whiteness that overwhelmed him, and he must have cried out. His whole body tensed as he felt that brilliant release through his entire being, right through to his soul. He might have been soaring, or weightless, beyond pain or pleasure. It was very nearly terrifying, if it wasn’t so amazing.

He came down slowly, as if drifting back into his own body, now sticky with sweat, burning hot, and wonderfully sated. Zeta was still rocking softly against him, a pure reflexive impulse, and Héctor felt himself sink into that sensation, and into the warm press of Imelda against him, breathing in the scent of her hair as she lay there, gasping wetly into his shoulder.

His arms had been released, and he leaned forward, almost dizzy. Imelda caught him, holding him close to her chest, her skin so warm and soft, and he was dimly aware of her murmuring into his hair as she cradled him. His breath hitched as Zeta pulled out, but he still continued to hold him, supporting the almost-dead weight of him.

“You’re okay,” he murmured sweetly. “I’ve got you.”

Soon the three lay sprawled out on the plush carpet, gasping and exhausted, ignoring the symphony of moans and creaking bedsprings from nearby.

“That… was intense,” Héctor said, sore and drowsy.

“That, my dear Alpha,” Zeta said breathlessly with a lopsided grin, “was only round one.”

How many rounds there were in that long night, Héctor couldn’t be sure. Sometimes it was sweet lovemaking, sometimes rough fucking, and by the end it was holding and being held, all limp limbs and the weight of exhaustion. They lay sprawled out in tangled masses, Ernesto and two clones on the large bed, two more on the couch, and a thankfully clean pile of spare pillows and blankets where Héctor lay between Imelda and Zeta. All through the night, Zeta stayed close. There just seemed something different about him, like there was a light in his eye, a strange knowingness.

He felt  _real._

It wasn’t until morning that Héctor forgot why that was a problem. He awoke when the warmth against his back disappeared, and Héctor turned over to see the clone sitting up, staring at his hand.

“Hm? Something wrong?”

“We don’t have much time left,” Zeta whispered, still studying his hand, rubbing at his palm. “I just wonder if it’ll hurt.”

“Wait, you knew?” Héctor propped himself up on his elbow. “This whole time?”

The clone nodded, though it was hard to see in the little light. “I can feel it stronger now, like something unraveling.” Then he turned and smiled. “At least we had a great time of it.”

Héctor looked down. It was only supposed to be temporary, just a fun, insane night that they would pretend never happened. And yet…

“Hey, follow me,” Héctor said, untangling Imelda from his arms and standing. “I want to show you something.”

Even though Zeta had seemed so sure last night, now he seemed young and afraid, not arguing as they quickly dressed and tiptoed out the door. Under the bright fluorescents of the hallway, Héctor could better see the childlike terror on his face, a life cut too short. At the very least he deserved a breath of fresh, free air.

They climbed up the stairwell, higher and higher until they came to the roof and stepped out a cool breeze and a brilliant sunrise, the sky glowing gold and orange through the scattered clouds. Zeta stepped forward as if in a dream, slowly gazing all around, his eyes—Héctor’s own brown eyes—huge and staring, catching the warm light.

For a minute, perhaps, they stood there. Then he violently shuddered, his skin shimmering as he staggered forward with a terrible rasping noise. Héctor managed to catch him, holding him until it stopped. But he was still shivering.

“Hey, hey! Zeta? It’s okay, you’re going to be okay.” It was a lie, but then there was nothing either of them could do, and the words were like ash in his mouth.

“Héctor?” Zeta asked, once he was more or less stable, and standing very close, one hand holding tight to Héctor’s arm, afraid to let go. “Can you give me one last thing, before…?”

Héctor nodded. Their eyes met, there was understanding, and then he was being kissed unlike anything he had known, impossible to describe, full of desperation and gratitude and unspeakable love. They held each other close, warm and steady, and a tear ran cold between their cheeks.

A sudden gasp against Héctor’s lips as another violent shudder overtook him, and suddenly it was all light and golden dust, fading, crumbling, beautiful and terrifying.

Then Héctor was alone, and the world was quiet.

A wave of dizziness hit him and he crumbled to the ground. Slowly he brought his hand to his lips, could almost feel him, his breath still within his lungs.

The sun rose higher. Time slowly passed.

He thought he might have mourned, or felt an emptiness, but instead… he felt okay. Strangely whole, like a little part had filled his spirit, something new that was him and yet not quite.

“Huh,” he murmured, closing his eyes and breathing deep, his hand settling over his heart.

Perhaps there was some magic after all.

**Author's Note:**

> When I finished this story, it was 2300 words over the limit, so a lot had to be cut.  
> Which means don't be surprised if one day this gets updated with a chapter 2: longer, thicker, and more ridiculous.  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
